The Tributes of District 2
by Dawn Bently
Summary: She knew he was accustomed to everybody being afraid of him, but she just wasn't one of those people. She could cut him up and make him  into a unique little puzzle for the Gamemakers to put back together before sending him home in a casket.
1. Scores

Clove sat on the couch watching the reruns of the Reaping on the large screen that dominated the entire wall of that room. She could vaguely hear Cato behind her, probably throwing another temper tantrum, since she noticed the Avox boy cowering out of the corner of her eye. She tried to focus most of her attention on the screen, but she'd always had trouble not paying attention to other things around her. She thought she looked a little too smug on that stage during the Reaping, but when the camera shifted to Cato volunteering she knew nobody paid her any more attention. At least that's what she thought. She knew within seconds of seeing Cato that he wasn't entirely balanced.

"Why are you watching that again!" he demanded loudly from behind her, but she hardly paid the noise any attention. She knew he was accustomed to everybody being afraid of him, but she just wasn't one of those people. She could cut him up and make his body into a unique little puzzle for the Gamemakers to put back together before sending him home in a casket long before he could get close enough to snap her neck.

"Because the scores will be up soon," Clove answered simply, lacking a defensive edge in her voice. Everybody got defensive around Cato because he had a way of making everyone feel like they weren't enough, that everything they did was cow's shit compared to what he could do with his eyes shut. Cato stalked over to where she sat and plopped down on the chair beside the couch she sat on. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he cocked his head to look at the screen.

The tributes from District 11 walked across the stage and looked at each other, the little girl beaming like she's so excited to get killed in a week. The boy looked like he huffed at her before looking out at the audience, his eyes seeming to linger on one person. A mother? Father? Siblings? Girlfriend? Clove discarded the thought since it didn't really matter. He may have been of the same build as Cato, but Cato could use any number of weapons to kill a man, and that dark boy there might find his skills in picking fruit a little lacking in the arena.

And then District 12's emblem flashed across the screen, and Clove reached for the remote to shut it off before she showed up on there. Cato, however, pulled the remote away and tossed it rather violently to the far side of the room, his eyes fixated on Katniss Everdeen, her cheap and old blue gown, her braided hair, her far-easier-to-kill little sister. Clove leaned back on the couch and forced her eyes on the screen as well, well aware that Cato's next outburst was due to come any second now. When Lover Boy showed up, so did the temper. Cato flipped the table in half a second, and the cup of tea Clove had been drinking flew and emptied the hot liquid onto the floor and walls.

"Are you finished?" Clove snapped at him, usually better able to handle him and his temper. Cato turned to her and almost snarled like a hungry animal, but turned away before his lips pulled back over his teeth. When the scores were announced, Cato calmed down dramatically. In the half second his temper took to flare, his victory at his score took over. Clove only smiled to herself at her own score, and the two enjoyed a few minutes of celebratory cheers as the other Districts received their scores. As though he knew it was coming, Cato turned back to screen in time to watch District 12's scores. Everybody in the room, their mentors, the Avoxes, the stylists, moved away from Cato immediately. They knew what the score meant and how well Cato received news.

Before his temper could flare, however, Clover stepped to him, rather foolishly according to everyone else in the room, and looped her arms around his neck. When she pressed their lips together Cato's temper took on a new form. His arms went around her roughly and pulled her against him to tightly, she could almost feel the bruises starting to form. He moved his lips against hers hard and slipped his tongue into her mouth with almost no regard to how she felt. Turning them, he forced her up against the protrusion of the wall that acted like a room divider. Pinned between him and the wall, Clove let go of everything around her, letting herself be taken by him however he wanted. One of his hands dug into her hip so hard, she wouldn't be surprised the next morning if there was a bruise the size of his hand. His other hand, however, was making quick work of the buttons on her blouse, then shoved into the article of clothing, his nails catching on her skin in the process.

Whether everyone was still in the room watching or had escaped, Clove wasn't sure. Cato didn't care at all. He just continued taking what he wanted from Clove, who had so far proven to be quite willing in their after-dark adventures. After a few more minutes, he slowed and pulled away from her to take a breath. Her lips were red and swollen, her blouse and skew and one strap of her bra was pushed down her shoulder and poking through the bottom of her sleeve. She only stared up at him, her eyes clear and hard and wholly unaffected by their actions. Part of him wouldn't be surprised if she killed him the first night with her handy little knife, but then part of him wondered if she really enjoyed their trysts enough to let him live.

Before he could say anything, she shoved him back with both her arms, pushed her bra strap back up and fixed her blouse. With a slight rustle of her hair, she looked like nothing had happened at all. She poured herself another cup of tea, realizing that everyone had indeed stayed present for the duration of their kiss, then turned back to the screen. She walked across the room and sat back down and eyed the spot where the table had been only minutes ago.

"Well, somebody put the table back," she snapped before looking over her shoulder at the nearest Avox, who scrambled to accommodate her.

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><p><strong>Please Review! And don't forget to check out my other one shot "The Tributes of District 11"<strong>


	2. CompletelyUtterlyDangerously Alone

**After so many requests, I added another chapter as a continuation. This is more like a collection of one-shots about the same characters in the same universe, but these won't necessarily be a multi-chaptered story in the usual sense. Since I'm planning on adding any more, I will keep this story listed as complete. **

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><p>She didn't like anything about him. Not really. She hated the way he was too big. Who really was that big? She hated the way his eyes were always burning. Always looking around like he was angry. But he wasn't always angry. For some reason, that should've been something she liked, and yet it wasn't. Even now, as he stood in the center of the training center, the Game Makers staring down rather attentively, he looked angry. Homicidally angry. And didn't he volunteer to be here?<p>

She hated the way he never changed. Out in public, in the training center with the other Tributes, completely-utterly-dangerously alone with her, always the same. Always with burning eyes searching for something to shatter just because he had the strength to do so. But that wasn't really what he was doing. This she knew for sure. Because whenever they were completely-utterly-dangerously alone, he wasn't looking for things to break.

Instead, he was usually looking for that one elusive spot. If Cato was anything, it was determined. He would spend what seemed like forever searching for that spot of her neck that made her make the most girlish of noises. And if Clove wasn't anything, she wasn't girly. And yet, under Cato's too large frame, she could moan, whimper, tremble, and groan like she was the last woman on earth. What Cato had yet to figure out was that elusive spot was hard to find simply because she needed to be in the right mood. It wasn't all that surprising that Cato wasn't the best at putting people at ease.

But Cato was determined and a quick learner. He picked on all her stubble, not so quiet, cues telling him what to do and when to do it. How to move his hands, where to grab hard, when to be gentle. So now, in the darkness of her room—always hers, never his—he slid his hands down the side of her body, his fingers adapting to her barely there curves. He could feel more tension in her body now than he had before, but that could've just been from their first training session earlier that morning. She'd done some weights, but in comparison to the others she wasn't all that strong. Sure, she had a good fifty pounds or so on the girls of the lower districts, but Clove was rather small compared to the other Careers.

And he kind of liked the feel of that in the middle of the night when nobody was coaching him on what to say and how to act and what to do and how to breathe. Because they might as well hang an educational poster in his room instructing him on how to put one foot in front of the other every morning the way they go on about all those trivial things. He didn't train for years to show up at his own Games a fool, but that seemed to pass right by his stylists and mentors.

"Stop," Clove growled as she reached down and swatted his hand away from the band of her shorts. She got a pretty good grip around his wrist as she pulled his arm up to the more respectable areas a man could touch on a woman's body like her breasts. Cato's lips pulled into a smirk as he continued to move his lips against hers, complying completely with her demands. It wasn't as though he hadn't gotten farther than that before, but Clove was a special kind of lady. She needed to take her time. And Cato was not at all a special kind of man. He could wait all night with the promise of something more, then leave as soon as he got it. But that was how they worked.

The stylists knew it. Their mentors knew it. Hell, the Game Makers probably knew it. Cato and Clove enjoyed a very non-romantic, high sexualized relationship and Clove would rather slit her own throat than become some love sick puppy in the eyes of the Capitol. She'd so much as threatened to do just that when their mentors suggested they play up their relationship for the public following that ridiculous scheme on the part of District 12.

No, Clove was determined to not be that girl. She would not be in love with Cato. She would go into the games, get a set of knives, and go back home without the complications of a public romance. No, public liaison. What was between her and Cato was by no means romantic. It was purely physical, and Cato wholehearted agreed.

So as he moved his kisses from her lips to her neck, he was rewarded with that particularly sound she always made when she'd been coaxed into relaxing enough for the continuation of their trysts. His lips worked that spot of her neck as she moaned and arched into him, her fingers digging into his neck.

Even when they were finished, it was purely physical. There were no lingering emotional attachments. There were moments of emotional attachments that went along with the physical act, but those passed as soon as they came. In the end, they were just two people. Two undressed people in one small bed as they rested. Clove always fell asleep within minutes, something that used to bother Cato, but now he actually liked about her. He used to take it as personal insult that she basically used him as her own personal brand of sleeping aid, but now realized it was nice to slip out of the room without being forced to make conversation. Quite honestly, he didn't want to talk after having sex. He wanted to eat.

They didn't like each other, per se. They weren't emotionally attached. They were not sharing a romantic connection. She needed to sleep when it was over, and he needed to eat. And for the life of them, neither could figure out what was so damn difficult about that arrangement that none of their stylists or mentors could grasp. Because, really, it was just so simple.

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><p><strong>Please Review!<strong>


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